


you know the world is headed for hell

by smallblueandloud



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Time Travel, edward is tired of people being annoying and edward is tired of himself, kimblee is such a bastard but he doesn't deserve to be made into a stone, roy and riza get to meet their future selves and roy is... not pleased, slight action i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15862722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallblueandloud/pseuds/smallblueandloud
Summary: Here the voice cuts off, because Roy has turned around to see-His own eyes, staring back at him. Sure, they’re set in a slightly older face, and the man - the other him - is dressed in a dirty white button-down shirt and ripped slacks, instead of Roy’s own Academy uniform. But it’s definitely Roy Mustang in front of him. Which is impossible.“This is impossible,” whispers the other man.(or, in which i have no self-control and want people to meet their older selves)





	you know the world is headed for hell

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from 'how far we've come,' by matchbox twenty. thanks to agentcalliope for her help in being someone to bounce ideas off of/being encouraging, and thank you to Hiromi Arakawa for creating an absolutely amazing story that i continue to be obsessed with. 
> 
> stop by my tumblr and say hello/yell at me about royai! i continue to have a lot of feelings with very few people to express them to/

_Roy wakes up slowly. He half expects Maes to start groaning about how early it is, until he registers that the surface underneath him is colder than his bed at the Academy. He sits up, noticing that there’s-_

 

_Everything’s white._

 

_He blinks, and then does a double-take at the giant door in front of him and the indistinct- shape- of some kind, that’s sitting and staring right at him._

 

**Well, Roy Mustang?**

 

_“Where- What? Where am I?”_

 

_The figure does nothing except to smile once, feral and almost- almost like it’s... excited?_

 

_“Who are you?”_

 

**Who am I? You could say I am God, or the world. I am the truth. I am everything, and I am nothing.**

 

_“What- how did I get here?”_

 

**I brought you here.**

 

_“Why?”_

 

**Do you know what equivalent exchange is, Mr. Mustang?**

 

_“It- it’s about alchemy. It means that in order to create something, you must use something of equal value.”_

 

**Good, good. And of course, the debt must be willingly taken.**

 

_“I- I don’t understand.”_

 

**No, I wouldn’t expect you to. But there is a debt being asked of you, and I will not take without making you aware of the consequences.**

 

_“What?”_

 

**Someone has been ignoring the law of alchemy. And just now, he tried to use you as a sacrifice to see the Truth.**

 

_Roy frowns, feeling more confused than he ever has in his life. “Who was it? And- and didn’t you say that_ you’re _the Truth?”_

 

**Yes, I am. And no, I am not. But that is not why I brought you here. His body - the one toll he had the right to - has been taken in punishment of what he’s done. But his soul remains, and I’m gifting it to you to use for your payment.**

 

_“I don’t- I don’t know what you-”_

 

**A human soul is worth plenty, even one such as Solf Kimblee’s. You can trade it for the Truth, or you can use it for a longer life. It’s all the same for me. But if you use it, you’ll change your path.**

 

_“My- my path?”_

 

**He captured you in 1920, alchemist. I brought you from 1905 - just before everything changes. If you use those tolls, you will change what happens next. Will you overwrite what’s already happened?**

 

_“I- I don’t know. I don’t know what- what I’d be losing!”_

 

**That’s fine, Mr. Mustang. I’ll show you what you have at stake. Those you care the most about have changed a lot, I think. Are you ready?**

 

“ _For what?”_

 

**You’ll see. Oh,** \- _and here the Truth smiles again, wider than any human ever could_ \- **and this will probably hurt a bit.**

 

-

 

Roy wakes up slowly, his ribs aching. He half expects Maes to start groaning about how early it is, until he registers that the surface underneath him is colder than his bed at the Academy. He sits up, noticing that there’s a giant chalk transmutation circle drawn all over the floor of the stone chamber that he’s in the middle of, and almost knocks Riza over, who’s sitting next to him.

 

“What’s going on?” he asks, looking her over for nonexistent injuries, and Riza shrugs. “I don’t know.”

 

“Neither do I, but it’s probably your fault, you bastard,” someone says, and Roy turns around to find a short, blonde kid standing and glaring at him, arms crossed. He rubs his forehead. He hasn’t had enough caffeine for this.

 

The doors to the chamber open slightly, and someone steps inside. He meets Roy’s eye and scowls, throwing the doors open completely and ushering in a squad of heavily-armed goons.

 

“Who are you?!” the leader demands, walking straight up to the kid and holding a knife beneath his chin. Riza stands up quickly, walking over and putting a protective hand on the kid’s stomach. “Don’t hurt him.”

 

The man sneers, his huge build speaking for him where his dull eyes don’t. “I’ll do what I want. How did you get in here? Where’s the boss?”

 

No one says anything. Roy has no clue where he is or what he’s doing there, but he has a brief flash of memory -

 

**I’ll show you what you have at stake.**

 

Then someone groans from behind him.

 

“Ow, my head.” There’s the sound of someone standing up. “Look, whoever they are, they didn’t do anything. It was just us in here when he started the transmutation. And _the boss_ was probably blocked from using me as a toll. I’m not his to give, and it doesn’t like people using tolls that aren’t theirs. I got my eyesight back without having to trade anything, because I was _forced_ to per-”

 

Here the voice cuts off, because Roy has turned around to see-

 

His own eyes, staring back at him. Sure, they’re set in a slightly older face, and the man - the _other him_ \- is dressed in a dirty white button-down shirt and ripped slacks, instead of Roy’s own Academy uniform. But it’s definitely Roy Mustang in front of him. Which is impossible.

 

“This is impossible,” whispers the other man, and his face looks just like Roy’s does, whenever he’s shocked. His mouth is slightly open and his eyes are wide and he looks like someone just told him that his best friend was murdered.

 

“What is? Speak up, or this kid gets a knife to the neck!”

 

Mustang swallows, and looks away from Roy. He seems to recognize the kid, from what he can see from the back, because he squints closer and then sighs, relaxing. “Are you an idiot? That’s the Fullmetal Alchemist there. You think you can kill him?” The goons all start to look at each other, muttering. The head goon hesitates. Mustang presses his advantage. “Will the boss really want you to spill the blood of someone who’s seen it?”

 

“Seen what?” asks one of the goons, but the leader barks a quick order to shut up and looks back at Mustang, visibly wavering.

 

“You’ll all be thrown in the cells until we find the boss,” he says eventually, and releases the Fullmetal Alchemist. He falls to the ground immediately, coughing, and Riza squats down and rubs his back, never taking her eyes off of the leader.

 

Roy hears a sharp intake of breath from Mustang behind him, probably when he realizes who Riza is. He decides to ignore it.

 

“Into the cells!” the leader yells to his goons, and Roy tries his best not to panic.

 

_They trained us for this at the Academy,_ he reminds himself, and looks at Riza. She turns slightly to meet his eyes and gives a little nod.

 

_It’s going to be fine_ , is what she’s trying to tell him, and Roy nods back. _If you say so_.

 

-

 

“If they’ve hurt my brother, I’m going to hurt them,” grumbles the blonde kid, staring at the ground from where he’s slumped on his small bed in the cell across from them. Mustang rolls his eyes from where he’s lying down on the bunk of the cell they dumped him and Roy into. “I’m sure Al is fine. I doubt he’s anywhere near here, to be honest.”

 

“What’s going on?” asks Riza, looking up from the floor of the cell that she and the kid are sharing. “Why do you look like Roy?”

 

“Because I am Roy,” says Mustang, sitting up. “I think we both are. Do you remember The Time Machine by Wells?”

 

“You think this is time travel?” Riza replies, catching on quickly.

 

“What year is it, then?” asks the blonde kid. Mustang cracks a smile. “1920. You’re a little out of your era, Elric.”

 

Roy doesn’t say anything, even when Riza glances towards him. He’s too busy with his memories, which are finally flooding back -

 

**He captured you in 1920, alchemist. I brought you from 1905 - just before everything changes. If you use those tolls, you will change what happens next. Will you overwrite what’s already happened?**

 

“Kimblee,” he whispers. Mustang looks down at him sharply. “What did you say?”

 

“The boss’ name is Kimblee, right?” He looks up. “He had a philosopher’s stone.”

 

“How do you know that, Roy?” asks Riza, her eyes narrowed. Mustang stares at him with suspicious eyes.

 

“I can’t- I don’t know,” Roy says, frowning. “I don’t know why we’re here.”

  


Mustang exhales quickly, and then stands from the bed, crouching quickly and staring him deep in the eyes. Then he punches Roy in the face.

 

“What the- what the HELL?!” yells Roy, reeling back. He covers his cheek with his hands, feeling the area quickly for blood. He can feel the bruise blooming already.

 

“I have to check,” says Mustang, moving towards him and peeling his hands away. He looks over Roy’s bruise, nodding as he checks it for tenderness. “All clear.”

 

“What was that for,” hisses Riza, standing at the bars of the cell. Mustang looks up and flinches back at the heat in her glare.

 

“It wouldn’t be beyond- there are enemies that can pretend to be who they’re not. I had to make sure he was who he looks like.”

 

“Are you done hitting him then?” she asks, and even Roy’s taken aback by how hard her eyes are. It’s definitely more aggressive than he’s ever seen her be - whenever she used to be mad at him, it was still quiet - and he remembers with a pang that he left her alone with her father for a year and a half. He still has no clue what happened during that time, and he’s not sure he could forgive himself if he knew.

 

“Yes, I’m done,” says Mustang, interrupting Roy’s thoughts and turning suddenly into nothing but an abashed guy with a sheepish grin, backing away with his hands raised. “He’s fine.”

 

“So when are they from?” asks the kid - _Elric,_ his name was - who’s put his hands behind his head and lain down completely on the bed, ignoring the commotion. “They don’t know me yet, do they?”

 

“No,” sighs Mustang. “They don’t know who you are, Fullmetal.”

 

“Okay, hold on,” says Roy, putting up a hand. “You’re expecting me to believe a child his age became a state alchemist? How the hell did that happen?”

 

“It’s a long story,” says Mustang, clearly impatient, but Elric interrupts, holding up his index finger. “I can transmute without an array,” he says, sounding incredibly proud of himself.

 

“ _How_?” asks Riza, whirling around to stare at him. “That’s impossible.”

 

“Not for Edward Elric!” he says, sitting up and patting himself on the chest. Mustang chuckles, sounding almost fond.

 

“Careful, Fullmetal. You don’t want to reveal too much.”

 

There’s a few minutes of silence, but it’s not as awkward as expected.

 

“So what’s your relationship with this kid, Mustang?” asks Roy, eventually. The Truth told him that the people he cared about the most had changed a lot, and that obviously means Riza - Roy doesn’t doubt that they’ll be running into the Riza from the future eventually. And of course Roy needs to see how he himself has changed. But it probably also means that he cares about Elric in some way, and he needs to figure out just how much.

 

“He’s- well, from the time when he’s from- what year are you from, Fullmetal?”

 

“1913,” answers the kid, lying back down.

 

“In 1913, I’m his annoying superior officer,” says Mustang, immediately. “He doesn’t know anything about- he has no idea what we’re planning, yet.”

 

“Of course I do. You’re power hungry and ambitious, and you’re planning on doing anything you can to get to the top,” says Elric, his hands crossed behind his head again. “It’s not that hard to work out.”

 

“Not quite,” says Mustang. “But that’s it. Now, things are different. I don’t want to spoil too much-”

 

“If we’re from the past, why are you here?” asks Elric suddenly, sitting up again. “If you’re from this year, why were you knocked out like we were?”

 

“Kimblee...” Mustang hesitates. “He- he tried to use my soul to- as his toll.”

 

“He wanted to see the-” At Mustang’s sharp look, Elric stops talking, although his face stays half horrified and half curious.

 

“Did this man - Kimblee - hurt your hand?” asks Riza quietly. Roy follows her line of sight to Mustang’s right hand, which is bandaged. Mustang looks at it like he’s forgotten he was injured.

 

“Right, that,” says Mustang, lifting it and examining it. “Yes, but he just wanted to remove a scar.”

 

“A scar?”

 

“He didn’t want me using my alchemy, and there was a scar left over from the array carved there.”

 

Riza’s mouth falls open. Roy frowns. “What kind of alchemy lets you use an array on the back of your hand?”

 

“You’d be surprised,” says Mustang, leaning back. “But this is- hold on. What year are you two from?”

 

“1905,” says Riza, closing her mouth with a _clack_. Mustang frowns, the wrinkle between his eyebrows growing more pronounced. “When in 1905?”

 

Roy glances at Riza, who turns to stare at the back of her cell. It’s up to him, then.

 

“Master Hawkeye just died,” he says, and he’s proud of the fact that his voice barely wavers.

 

“So you don’t know yet?” asks Mustang. Roy shakes his head. “What should I know?”

 

“Nothing yet,” he says. “The- Hawkeye, you have it, then?”

 

It’s the first time that Mustang has addressed Riza by name, and he refused to use her first name, Roy notices. It was even as though her _last_ name wasn’t his first instinct - he started with “the,” which usually precedes some kind of rank-

 

_If something’s happened to Riza in the future,_ Roy thinks-

 

From the other cell, Riza breathes in sharply. “Oh,” she says, and draws her blouse tighter around her body. “It’s _that_ kind of alchemy, on your hand.”

 

“Yes,” says Mustang, nodding, the lines in his face growing more pronounced. “That kind of alchemy.”

 

“Hold on. What kind of alchemy?” asks Roy, and Riza shakes her head quickly. “No. No, I won’t tell you. Not here. It’s too-”

 

“It’s flame alchemy,” interrupts Elric, looking bored. “Look, I’m sorry, Hawkeye, but we can’t just skate around things because you’re uncomfortable or anything. You can use flame alchemy, you bastard, although it isn’t really all that impressive, if you ask me. All I’ve ever seen you do is light-”

 

“That’s _enough_ , Edward,” says Mustang, his voice hard as stone. He sounds a little like an exasperated father and a little like a commanding officer whose subordinate has acted up one too many times. He sounds like Brigadier General Grand, actually, with the tone of voice - the kind that you only develop on the battlefield.

 

“What- was my father right? About what someone could do with it?” asks Riza, her voice nearly a whisper. Mustang looks down at his hands, his eyes shadowed. “Yes.”

 

She pales. “Was- was anyone hurt?”

 

Mustang looks up. “Yes,” he replies. “Enough that we will never be free of the crime.”

 

No one really says anything after that.

 

-

 

A few hours into their imprisonment, footsteps sound in the hallway and someone dressed in all black grins at the four of them. “Right. I’m here for- what?”

 

Roy’s pretty sure his pause is because he’s noticed that there are _two_ Roy Mustangs in the room, but Mustang ignores the stunned silence and gestures at the lock on their cell. “ _Finally_. Took you long enough.”

 

“Uh, sir? What’s with the-”

 

“They’re with me,” Mustang says, and his voice is still- he’s still done with pretending to be friendly. “Are you going to stand there and stare, or are you going to get us out of here?”

 

“Fine, but you’re explaining while we move,” says the man, blinking a few times before shaking himself and pulling out a kit of lockpicks to start work on their door. It only takes a few minutes before both doors are standing open, and Roy follows Mustang out, shaking his leg in a vain effort to wake it up a little.

 

“It’s time travel,” says Mustang, shortly. “That’s your explanation. You don’t have my gloves, do you?”

 

“No,” says the man, starting to walk backwards so he can stare at the four of them as they move. “So that’s actually Fullmetal there?”

 

“Yes, and that’s actually me and the- and Hawkeye,” says Mustang. He rolls his eyes. “Are you just going to act like an idiot this entire time, or are you going to take this seriously and watch where you’re going for enemy combatants?”

 

“Yes, sir,” says the man, giving him a lazy, two-fingered salute, before turning and pulling a small gun out of his shoulder holster, his movements becoming fluid and practiced as he moves. He leads them out of the building, taking turns with confidence until Roy’s blinking in the midday sunlight and they’re making a beeline to a nondescript truck parked in the lot.

 

“Okay, so our driver will get you guys to safety. The Major and I will tie up the loose ends here and arrest everyone,” says their rescuer, stopping next to the truck and pulling up his black mask so that he can breath more easily, revealing blonde hair and hard eyes surrounded by laugh lines.

 

“Thanks, Havoc,” says Mustang, and Havoc snaps a sharp salute. “Sure, sir,” he says, lowering his hand, and a lazy grin forms his face. “Just don’t do anything stupid. The Major and I can handle ourselves, and we definitely don’t need you butting in. Sir.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” says Mustang, rolling his eyes. “I never do anything stupid.”

 

“You never-” Havoc repeats, incredulously, and then sighs. “Just get in the damn truck,” he says, and pulls his mask down. “I’ll catch you later.”

 

“You heard the man,” says Mustang, turning to them. “Go on.”

 

Fullmetal gets the memo and pulls the truck door open, quickly jumping inside, but Roy is too busy staring at Mustang. Here he was thinking that the friendly guy with a sense of humor was just a mask and the battle-hardened commander is who he really is, but Mustang’s casual banter with Havoc seems just as real.

 

Now he’s confused.

 

_Which one do I become?_ , he thinks, and he doesn’t have any idea. _But_ \- he realizes something. _If I see Riza- if I see them interact, that might- that might give me a clue._

 

Mustang follows him and Riza up into the truck, making sure that no one followed them outside and locking the doors. Once they’re all seated, Mustang taps the back of the chair in front of him. “Let’s go, Edward,” he says, and Elric looks up.

 

“Don’t order me around, you bastard,” says the driver, putting the car in gear. His voice sounds - familiar - somehow, and a glance at Riza tells him where he’s heard it before. She’s looking at Elric, eyes narrowed, and Elric has his mouth hanging open. “Elric?” she asks quietly, her eyes flicking forward to rest on the driver’s seat.

 

Their getaway driver - Edward _Elric_ , except he’s an adult now, with a short-sleeved shirt on and his hair in a ponytail - turns around so fast he almost bangs his head on the steering wheel. “Hawkeye?” he asks, gaping at them openly. “Mustang? What the _hell_?”

 

“You’ve read the _Time Machine_ , haven’t you, Edward?” asks Mustang, sounding almost pleasant, before his voice hardens again. “Drive.”

 

“No, I haven’t, and no, I won’t, not until you explain this,” says Edward, pointing at Mustang and frowning. “You don’t get away with not telling me anything anymore, you bastard.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, and then- “You have _two arms_ ,” whispers Elric, his voice slack in shock, and pulls the sleeve up on his right arm to reveal a complicated automail arm. “I- we- we did it.”

 

Edward’s face softens. “Yeah, we did,” he says. “You should- you should really see Al.”

 

“Al,” whispers Elric, collapsing back in his seat, and Riza clears her throat. “We’re getting away, right?”

 

“Right,” says Edward, his voice hardening as he nods. “The Major and Havoc are watching our backs, so we should be good to go. Everyone’s okay?”

 

“Mustang’s injured,” says Roy. “His hand.”

 

“Kimblee removed my array scar,” explains Mustang, sounding dismissive, and - to Roy’s horror - Edward nods and turns around like he _understands what Mustang’s talking about_. “I’m not even going to ask about the apparent resurrection of Kimblee. As long as you’re not going to bleed out in my truck,” he says. Mustang scoffs, and Edward whips around again. “Don’t give me that. Remember when you went after Scar-”

 

“Ed-”

 

“-when it was raining-”

 

“You don’t have to parent me,” interrupts Mustang. “Give me my gloves.”

 

“No,” says Edward, turning back to the front again and raising his middle finger back at them. “I’m holding them hostage. Everyone hold on,” he says, and the truck lurches out of its parking spot.

 

Roy’s impressed with the adult Elric by the time they get out of the compound - even though they’re in the middle of the countryside, surrounded by forest for miles around, his chatting with the guard makes it sound like he’s supposed to be there. He’s good enough that the guy isn’t suspicious at all, and he even waves them out with a smile when the conversation has ended.

 

Younger Elric looks like he’s going to _explode_.

 

“You’ve matured a lot,” observes Riza, and Roy only knows from years of living in the same house that she’s smirking underneath all of her composure. “I like it.”

 

“Thank you!” calls Edward, navigating around a pothole in the road. “He’s - I’m - such an ass because he hates being talked down to. The growth spurt helped a lot.”

 

“It did,” confirms Mustang from where he’s leaning back, hands behind his head and his eyes closed, looking suspiciously at edge. Elric opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.

 

“You’re not in the military anymore, are you?” he asks, and there’s a soft chuckle from the front seat.

 

“No, I’m just living in Risembool these days with- with Winry. But when Armstrong called and said this idiot had gotten himself captured and that they needed a driver, I couldn’t say _no_.”

 

“Right,” says Elric faintly.

 

“Is it just me, or was this too easy?” asks Edward, his voice going serious again. “I mean, did anyone even notice you leaving the compound?”

 

“No,” answers Mustang, frowning slightly. “Their leader just disappeared, though. Hopefully they’ll only get themselves organized again after we’re well out of reach.”

 

They ride in silence for a few more minutes, and then-

 

And then-

 

Several things happen in quick succession. First, an alarm goes off in the compound. All four of them quickly move to the back window of the truck where they can see groups of armed men moving around in search of something.

 

Then, the gates burst open and several motorcycles rush out, racing towards them with drivers who look like they could crush Roy’s windpipe with one hand.

 

Then, they open fire on the truck.

 

“We’ve got company!” yells Mustang, turning back slightly so that Edward can hear him in the driver’s seat.

 

“I figured,” he says, with his teeth gritted, swerving to make it a little harder to hit them.

 

And then, two more motorcycles emerge from the gates. Except these drivers are dressed in black, and they’re both shooting at the other motorcycles and completely ignoring their truck.

 

“Should we go out and-”

 

“You’re staying in here, Fullmetal,” says Mustang, watching the fight intently.

 

“This truck is not stopping under any circumstances,” adds Edward from the front. “Your safety is the most important part of this whole mess.”

 

Their allies are obviously good at what they do, picking off vehicles one by one as they weave among them. It even looks like they’re going to get out of this unscathed for a few minutes.

 

The blockier one - Havoc, probably - is a good shot, and has good luck in picking off the forces on foot. But the shorter one is quicker, and has better luck with the enemies on vehicles, picking them off but notably not killing any. Their slimmer build and quickness makes Roy think they might be a woman, and Mustang confirms that when he speaks a second later.

 

“She might need help,” he says, glancing back, and Edward shakes his head, avoiding the ruptures that mark this place as a rural area more clearly than any of the trees. “Don’t disrespect her like that. The Major can handle herself and Havoc, you know that.”

 

“Not with-” his voice trails off as the new leader of the goons rushes forward on a motorcycle of his own, wearing a new white shirt and holding something long and thin that glints in the sunlight. It’s a _sword_ , Roy realizes quickly, as he whips it through the air with deadly precision.

 

Elric frowns. “How is someone that good at a sword? The only person that I’ve seen who’s better is-”

 

“Fuhrer King Bradley,” finishes Mustang, his face turning chalky white. “It’s another one of the failed candidates- it can’t- _I won’t let it happen again_ -”

 

Roy doesn’t get to hear about whatever isn’t supposed to happen again, because Mustang’s words turn into deathly silence as the candidate slashes the tires on Havoc’s vehicle and the soldier skids, falling sideways quickly. The man with the sword ignores him, moving around and speeding up, apparently headed towards the woman in black.

 

“Stop the truck,” Mustang says finally, sounding tense. Edward doesn’t stop.

 

The goon reaches the woman in black, despite her attempts to outpace him. His blade flashes - once, twice - and her motorcycle skids. She manages to get off and land on her feet, but the goon’s motorcycle has stopped just as quickly and he’s on his feet in front of her as soon as she gets her bearings. She pulls a handgun out of her holster quicker than thought, but the bullet catches and the goon hits it out of her hands easily.

 

He reaches back with the flat of his sword and pulls her knees toward him, knocking her off-balance. He catches her before she hits the ground and pulls off her mask, revealing a head of blonde hair.

 

“No,” whispers Roy. _I wanted to see her but not like this; not like this:_ not like _this_ -

 

“Riza Hawkeye,” calls the man, confirming Roy’s guess loud enough that they can hear him. He glances up, away from Hawkeye, and his stare is harder than granite.

 

“If that’s me- we can’t let him see-” starts Riza, and Elric shakes his head behind them. “Whatever you know, Second Lieutenant, is definitely not the reason why he wants you.”

 

Roy risks a glance at Mustang. His face is still pale as the moon, but it’s darkening quickly.

 

(He slides a few inches to the side. Just in case.)

 

He looks back at the road, and it hits him - that woman is in serious danger, out there, and there’s _nothing_ he can do. As he watches, the goon drops the Major - _Riza Hawkeye, Riza, his best friend, his master’s daughter -_ onto the road like a sack of bricks. He kneels over her and swiftly holds his sword to the older Hawkeye’s throat.

 

“This looks familiar!” he shouts, looking back up at them, nothing but grim determination on his face. “If you don’t come back here, Mustang, your subordinate will be nothing but a stain on the road!”

 

Next to him, Mustang _growls_. His face looks like fury incarnate. He barely raises his voice to speak to Edward, but they all hear him anyway.

 

“Stop the truck.”

 

“Didn’t I tell you that this truck isn’t stopping under-”

 

“Stop the _damn_ truck.”

 

Edward stops the truck.

 

“Wait-” he starts, as Mustang marches up to the front. “Don’t-”

 

“He forfeited his right to get out of this unburned when he threatened her, Edward. You know that just as well as I do.”

 

“Mustang-”

 

Mustang sighs, and the storm abates, at least for the moment. “I’m not going to kill him, Edward. I haven’t forgotten what you - all of you - taught me during the Promised Day. But he might wish he was dead when I’m done with him.”

 

He opens the glove compartment on the passenger side and pulls out _gloves_ , of all things, his motions quick and stiff, like he’s so angry he can’t function properly. He walks slowly to the back door. It’s like something’s pulling him, a force that he can’t resist making him pull the door open and step out.

 

“Riza’s- you’re in the military too?” Roy asks, wanting to turn and see Riza’s face but unable to tear his eyes away from what’s happening in front of them. She takes a deep breath, to respond, it seems like, but it’s Edward who eventually speaks. He’s gotten out of the driver’s seat and is now standing behind them to watch what’s happening next.

 

“Yes, she is,” he says quietly. “Officially, she’s your bodyguard, but it’s a little more- it’s more complicated than that.”

 

“What are you insinuating?” asks Roy quietly, watching Mustang’s steady advancement to where the man is still holding Hawkeye down. He knows the fraternization laws as well as any other cadet, and the relationship that he and Riza have _now_ could probably be grounds for a court martial, if they were in the military.

 

“She watches your back, but that means she can shoot you in it, too,” elaborates Edward, still staring straight through the window. Riza recoils, and Roy doesn’t blame her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

Edward sighs. “I can’t tell you much. It isn’t my business. But you wanted to change the world, become Fuhrer of this country, and she was your right hand in doing so.”

 

“Was?”

 

“Well, you made it. She doesn’t have much to do in that area anymore.”

 

Roy wants to say something, about the idea that _he might be Fuhrer_ , or a question about _what happened to Fuhrer Bradley?_ , but in front of them, Mustang slows to a stop, a foot in front of the man and Hawkeye. He raises his right hand, poised to - is he planning on _snapping?_ \- and everything goes silent.

 

The man glowers even more, if that was possible. The sword in his other hand flashes, and Mustang’s glove falls off, floating away in two pieces before it hits the road.

 

“He just made it that much harder on himself,” sighs Edward. “The men like him deserve rehabilitation, not death.”

 

“What does that mean? What’s- what just happened?” asks Roy, feeling a spark of fear. Elric reaches back and adjusts his braid, fixes his gloves, adjusts his stance. It’s a boy preparing to start running towards Mustang and the goon at a moment’s notice and it speaks of a lot of experience in battle. It also hurts Roy to think too much about.

 

“It means he can’t perform flame alchemy.”

 

Edward chuckles quietly, still looking forward. “That’s what he’s hoping they’ll will think.”

 

“What- but the Colonel can’t transmute without his gloves.”

 

“Sure,” says Edward, a small smile on his face. The resemblance between the young and old Edwards are easy to spot, once he starts being sarcastic. “Sure he can’t.”

 

Mustang drops down and claps once before setting his hands on the ground. Instantly, the road rears up, forcefully separating the goon and his hostage. He falls down on his ass while Hawkeye stays on the ground, immobile.

 

Roy only catches a glimpse of the dawning flatness - the terror - on the man’s face before Mustang claps and the entire road explodes into flames. Even the inside of the truck, with the doors closed, gets warmer. Roy’s stomach clenches. Riza covers her mouth.

 

“He _saw it_? He was stupid enough to try it?” hisses Elric, sounding the angriest Roy’s heard him be. Behind them, Edward sighs.

 

“This is what I become?” asks Roy, whipping around once he finds himself capable of speech. He’s still going to be sick if he’s not careful, but he has to know. “A walking, talking _bomb_ ?” _There’s no way I can let this happen_.

 

Edward meets his eyes. “You’re more than your alchemy. We all are,” he says, glancing at his past self with eyes full of an emotion that Roy can’t name. He sighs. “He brought this upon himself.”

 

“I didn’t realize-” Roy hears, and he glances back to see Elric in a state of shock. “I didn’t know he could be that destructive.”

 

“Neither did I,” says Riza, her voice almost a whisper.

 

Edward chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “He can be much worse. He’s holding back right now, because this man deserves to be tried in a jury of his peers and the Major’s in the line of fire.”

 

“This is _holding back_?” falls out of Roy’s mouth before he can control it. They still can’t see any of what’s happening down the road, but it’s thanks to the leftover smoke instead of any actual flame. Edward shrugs.

 

“I’ve seen him do much more than this. I’m just glad he-” Edward swallows. “Seeing the Major in that position brings up bad memories for him. For both of them.”

 

Roy pauses, debating if he really wants to know. Then he decides there’s no reason to hold back, and he takes a deep breath.

 

“What happened?”

 

Edward sighs, and rotates his shoulder like it’s in pain. “That’s- that’s not something I’m going to talk about.”

 

Roy opens his mouth, ready to force him to tell them the story, but he catches Riza’s eye and she frowns. Her message can’t be clearer - _Don’t press him. I don’t want to hear it anyway._

 

Roy shrugs. _Suit yourself_. He turns back to the window and finds himself faced with a very different scene - the smoke in the air has cleared, although there’s still some drifting up from the fallen man’s collapsed form. The rest of the goons are currently inside a huge stone cage, of all things, and Havoc appears to be having a quiet conversation with Mustang, who has Hawkeye’s arm slung around his shoulder. As Roy watches, they seem to finish up, Havoc saluting quickly before he goes to the goon and pulls out what Roy’s pretty sure are handcuffs. Meanwhile, Mustang and Hawkeye slowly make their way to the truck, and Mustang seems to be explaining the current situation to her as they walk.

 

When they get to the truck, Edward pushes the door open and holds his hand out. Hawkeye grips his forearm and pulls herself up before settling herself in the closest seat to the door. “Thanks, Edward,” she says quietly, and Roy’s not really surprised to hear that her voice hasn’t changed at all.

 

Mustang jumps inside and pulls the door closed slowly, glaring at Roy and Elric as if he’s daring them to comment. After the display of alchemy outside, Roy isn’t going to push him, and he breaks eye contact as Mustang settles into the seat next to Hawkeye and Edward starts driving again.

 

His fists are clenched, left bare after his ruined white gloves were left behind on the road. Hawkeye takes a deep breath and the entire inside of the truck seems to brace itself for whatever is coming next.

 

Roy is expecting her to thank Mustang for saving her, or maybe tell him off for the _incredibly_ destructive alchemy that he used out there, in that quiet way that she always speaks to him.

 

“You shouldn’t have come back for me,” is she says instead, sounding exasperated. Roy’s breath seems to freeze in his chest.

 

“Major-” starts Mustang, his voice low, but Hawkeye ignores him.

 

“I’m serious. You’re Fuhrer, now, and if they had known about you and the Truth you would still be a hostage. What do you expect this country to do without you?”

 

“What do you expect _me_ to do without you?”

 

Roy snaps his mouth shut, trying his hardest to not look at Riza. Even if he  _wanted_ to say something, this would really not be the time. Hawkeye sighs.

 

“You keep going. You can’t give up on the will to live, remember?” she asks, her voice soft.

 

Mustang sighs and throws up his hands. “Right. And you’re telling me you wouldn’t-”

 

“Not here,” interrupts Hawkeye, nodding in Elric’s direction. “He doesn’t know yet, does he?”

 

“Neither do they,” says Mustang, gesturing to Roy and Riza, but at Hawkeye’s glare he shuts up. He glares right back, though, and in unison the two of them stiffen and turn to stare forward.

 

A tense silence fills the truck.

 

_The first thing she said after almost being killed by a hostile alchemist was a criticism of the fact that she was rescued at all,_ he realizes, and he hates the idea that she’d ever become like this. Riza’s always been careful, sure, and she’s scolded him for being self-sacrificing since he took her father’s rage upon himself on purpose one day. But this- this cold calculation, these stone-hard soldier’s eyes, this ability to discount herself as just part of the strategy - is all new.

 

He wants to say something - _anything_ \- but he’s worried about making things worse. Elric doesn’t seem to have his own hang ups, though. After a few minutes, he leans forward, steepling his hands.

 

“So,” he starts, and Mustang groans. Elric rolls his eyes. “Be serious, will you? When did you- why did you try it, if you knew what would happen? What was taken from you?”

 

Roy has no clue what he means, but both Mustang and Hawkeye appear to, because Mustang’s posture straightens and Hawkeye stiffens, barely. Elric probably didn’t notice it, and Roy takes some comfort in the fact that he can still read her the same way, even after so long.

 

“Try what? What are you talking about?”

 

Mustang takes a deep breath and runs his hand down his face. He must be more on edge than he’s letting on, because he actually answers the question. “The Truth. I saw the Truth, is what he’s talking about. And Fullmetal- it’s a long story. Let’s just say I didn’t have much of a choice.”

 

“There’s always a choice, you idiot,” mutters Elric, and he might say something else, but Roy can’t hear him over the roaring in his ears.

 

“The Truth-” he says, too shocked to say anything else. “That’s why- that’s what Kimblee wanted to see.”

 

Everyone turns to look at him except Hawkeye, who’s holding her neck at an angle that makes him think she’s in more pain that she seems. “How did you know that?” asks Mustang quietly. “How do you know any of these things?”

 

“The Truth- it-” Roy’s mouth doesn’t seem to be working. “It said everything was about to change and I had the right to the toll-”

 

“Ah,” says Mustang, his eyes dark and full of understanding. “It yielded Kimblee’s body and soul to you.”

 

“That’s- the Truth isn’t generous,” says Elric, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t give something, just out of the blue-”

 

“It’s fair, though,” says Hawkeye, her face still turned slightly towards the front of the truck. “It will give back something taken unfairly, if it sees fit. It probably had no use for Kimblee’s soul and knew that you could-”

 

She stops suddenly, her voice choking up. Mustang notices and catches on a second later, paling as well. “If you took the toll, you could- you could use it for immortality, or something else. You’d be able to stop Father that much sooner. Kimblee wouldn’t be able to break the laws of alchemy as he did after we took his Stone. That’s why it wants you to take it.”

 

In front, Edward shakes his head. “No. You can’t- you can’t take the easy way out. Using someone’s soul like that - it’s hell, for everyone involved. My- just- trust me on this. You can go back and change things, go for it, but there’s no way you can take someone’s soul like that.”

 

Riza stiffens next to him. He knows what she’s thinking. _Are you going to take it?_

 

Roy doesn’t say anything, mostly because he doesn’t have an answer. He looks up-

 

Hawkeye turns her neck, finally, to look at him. He meets her eye-

 

And falls.

 

-

 

**Well, alchemist? Have you made your choice?**

 

_“I’m not done yet! Take me back! There were things I still could have-”_

 

**This is all I will show you** _, says the Truth, and it almost sounds mocking. Roy stops, takes a deep breath, reminds himself what he’s dealing with._

 

_“Is that- is that what I’m going to end up as? Is that what’s going to happen to the country- to me- to Riza?”_

 

**Yes**.

 

_Roy sighs, glancing around the emptiness again. “You said I could have anything? Immortality, knowledge - anything?”_

 

**Anything worth as much as your toll.**

 

_“And- and will it hurt Kimblee? If I use his soul?”_

 

**I can’t tell you that. You must make your own decision.**

 

_Roy thinks back to the absolute conviction in Edward’s face, telling him that there was no way he could use Kimblee’s soul, even for a good reason. The fear in Hawkeye’s face when she realized that everything could be undone, even though she had just told Mustang that he should have left her behind to die. He takes a deep breath._

 

_“Then- no. No, I can’t accept that toll.”_

 

**Are you sure? Men would kill for something worth this much.**

 

_“And I won’t. Let him move on. I’ll change things some other way.”_

 

**Very well. But you still can’t be too sure of the course of your life** , _says the Truth, grinning again, and Roy dissolves into dust before he realizes what that means._

 

-

 

“Can I trust you with my back?” asks Riza, weeks later, still dressed in the clothes she wore to her father’s funeral.

 

_Yes_ , Roy doesn’t say, and if the tattoo on her back looks familiar, he has no idea of where he’s ever seen it before.

 

_I didn’t know you had flame alchemy_ , he thinks, and the words taste like lies in his mouth.

 

Which doesn’t make any sense.

 

He didn’t know. There was no way he could have known.

 

(And maybe if he repeats it enough times, he’ll believe it.)


End file.
